


Tremors

by Liquid_Lyrium



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:28:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/pseuds/Liquid_Lyrium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story told in absence, but a helping hand is there in Skyhold just the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremors

**Author's Note:**

> Cole helping people, especially mentally ill/neurodivergent people is my jam. I also liked the idea of playing with the fact the people completely forget Cole.

He could hear scraping. The veteran gripped his dagger tightly, preparing himself to meet the Darkspawn even though he knew it was impossible. Not here, not in Skyhold, and yet that sound carried too much power.

It took him back to Ferelden, to the Blight and the sounds those things made on the barn walls, and the only thing he could smell was death and fear as his hands trembled.

Suddenly, it occurred to him to look up at the window. He couldn’t see it before, with his back to the wall.

A branch scraping along the window and the wall.

Nothing more.

The soldier let out a long, shaky sigh, feeling utterly foolish, but the sound had less power now that he knew its source. 

He had the strangest feeling, though, that someone had told him to look at the window.

How odd.

The sensation quickly fled and the soldier crawled back into bed, utterly drained from his extended bout of fear.

He’d take care of that branch tomorrow.

—  


The veteran had slept surprisingly well that night. He’d half expected nightmares, but perhaps he’d been too tired to stumble about the Fade.

He took his trusty dagger after breakfast, and went towards the barracks, intent on cutting back that branch.

A gardener was already there, standing atop a short ladder, clipping back the boughs.

The veteran found it strange.

"You’re very thorough in your work, ma’am."

She was human, her accent Fereldan, “I noticed the branches touching the windows, and I knew they needed to be cut back. That’s how termites travel into homes, you know. Someone told me that, once, but I can’t remember who… But why take the risk of weakening our newly found stronghold?”

He noticed the tremor in her voice. It was the same as the tremor that took hold of his hands. “You were in Haven, then?” Most of the residents at Skyhold were those that had survived the journey over the Frostbacks. There were some newcomers—more every day—but most of them had survived Haven together.

"Yes," she said tersely. "I’m no fighter, but I can take care of this place just the same as anyone else. I can grow herbs and food or keep termites from attacking the siege engines with my diligence." She tossed down another small branch.

 _She’s lonely, she just wants a friend._ The veteran blinked, unsure of where that thought had come from. “You sound Fereldan,” he said, suddenly feeling dreadfully awkward and stupid.

"So do you."

"I am," he conceded.

"From the Bannorn, you?"

"South Reach," he bowed his head, not wanting to think of that time "but not for many years now."

The gardener said nothing but continued to clip the tree. Finally she spoke, “First the Blight, now this shit happens. The Maker certainly has it out for us Fereldans, don’t he?”

"So it would seem," he said nothing more for a long time, until she finished her clippings.

He moved forward to hold the ladder steady as she climbed down.

"Thank you," she said quietly. 

Her hands were trembling.

He hadn’t noticed that until just now.

The veteran glanced along the wall. There were many trees to go.

"Would you care for some help?"

"You’re not busy? Don’t you have drills to run?"

"I have time before I must report in to Commander Cullen," he shrugged. "Tell me of the Bannorn. I’ve never been to any of the lands there."

"It’s nice, when the banns aren’t arguing amongst themselves, which is never. I liked Rainesfere best, I think."

The veteran held the ladder steady while she talked. His hands didn’t shake, and gradually, hers stopped shaking as well, the more she spoke of the past, of other places.

They agreed to have a friendly drink later on when it was time for them to part ways.

The veteran was struck by the sudden notion that the same man had waited on him each time he had gone to the tavern. Perhaps there was something there worth pursuing.

His hands suddenly trembled for a different reason. 

Perhaps his new friend, the gardener, could help. Perhaps some flowers..? Or perhaps she could simply help take the tremor from his hands.


End file.
